Broken: Companion Piece to Breaking
by Moiya Hatake
Summary: Oneshot - But the pain strangled his heart, the burning blinded him, the ache in his too tight throat squeezed out unfamiliar sounds and his muscles were wracked with a trembling so strong they cramped and pulled him in on himself. - Kakashi/Genma, non-yo


**Title:** Broken - Companion fic to Breaking by MoiyaHatake

**Characters:** Kakashi/Genma, mention of Minato

**Rating:** PG-13 for character death, angst.

**Summary:** Broken promises hurt the most. That's all you get :P

Said I would and I did. Still feel some angst tying my gut into knots. Oh well.

* * *

If anyone noticed they were wise enough to keep their mouth shut.

Because like any other Anbu, occasionally your hands shook.

It was the job.

Too heavy sometimes for one man to carry. Forget about a fifteen year old not-man not-boy.

And if anyone in this village had the right to let his hands shake, he did.

He had the right to shake and scream and curse and fight and hate and not care what anyone thought of him.

He did...._ME!!_

Not the baby who wouldn't shut up. The one everyone would hate. The one he couldn't look at, not once, because of the blue eyes. Those blue eyes.

_His blue eyes._

Blue eyes that lied.

Made promises they couldn't keep.

Told him he was special and loved and......

_LIAR!!!_

He wanted to scream that too.

From the top of the monument, overlooking the chaos that was once beautiful so that it would echo and everyone would know he'd been lied to.

He wasn't special and loved and wanted and strong and all those things he'd believed. Believed because blue eyes told him they were true and he trusted them.

_I HATE YOU!_

And it hurt.....for the first time in forever it hurt so much he couldn't breath. Not like before when he just thought he couldn't breath and panicked like a child.

He couldn't. The air was lost to him.

It wasn't until brown eyes looked into his own and lips shouted things he couldn't hear over the rush of his own angry, boiling, blood...pounding away at his mind...that he realized someone was pressing an arm against his throat.

And other eyes were watching.

Hidden away behind masks.

Judging him.

Only this time....this time he didn't care what they thought of him.

He was feared.

Not respected.

Feared.

By his own comrades because he was faster, stronger, deadly and he didn't bat an eye at the blood and death that soaked into his clothes and skin and hair and made him a living weapon.

And then he was choking on the rush of oxygen and stars popped right before his eyes and he was being wisped away before he could react.

But react he did.

Fast and hard against that body that had pinned him.

Not because he was angry for being choked.

Because brown wasn't blue and he wanted the blue so badly he would fight and bite and claw and kick and hit and swing and punch until he couldn't move.

But the pain strangled his heart, the burning blinded him, the ache in his too tight throat squeezed out unfamiliar sounds and his muscles were wracked with a trembling so strong they cramped and pulled him in on himself.

And then he was being pulled.

Gently. Slowly.

Until his head rested in warmth and calloused fingers sifted through silver strands.

And somewhere in the black hole he felt himself being sucked into he could hear a voice, "he left me...he left me....he left me.... he left me..." his fists pressed painfully between his stomach and thighs, his face pressing into the warmth and he screamed until the screams turned to sobs and the sobs became nothing.

Nothing but aches and pains and tingling hands and feet where the blood had been hard pressed to reach and no energy to do more than just be, just breath.

Eyes too heavy to see.

Heart too heavy to feel.

Brain too thick to think.

Limbs too numb to move.

So the hands with warm brown eyes moved him. Lifted. Shifted. Arranged.

Until he could feel himself sinking into something softer than the hardwood floor and his hands and feet stung like a thousand needles and his cramped muscles finally let go of the ghost blonde with blue eyes that lied.

But the voice.

The not-man not-boy voice still murmured and whimpered and cried so he turned his face into the new warmth pressed against him to escape the sound,

And listened.

To the beat.

Hard and strong and even.

And the soft thick covers were pulled in around him, holding that sound just for him, lulling him into the false comfort.

False because he wouldn't believe otherwise.

He couldn't.

Not again.

Not ever.

If those bright blue eyes he loved more than anything in this world could lie and break promises and die and leave him alone forever and all eternity.....bright blue eyes that made his dark world bearable, made him not so horrible, filled the empty places of his heart, his soul.

If they could lie, then so could the unfamiliar warm brown ones that had shouted and choked and then soothed and comforted.

The ones attached to the deep, strong, even beat of a heart that pulled and coaxed him into the dark, away from the ghost blonde and the pretend world and the stabbing pain in his chest when he remembered those unforgivable words that tasted like blood on his tongue after all these years.

"I miss you and Im lonely."

"I miss you too Kashi-kun."

"Ill never leave you alone again. I promise."


End file.
